On Finding Ourselves in a State of Exception (Part 2)

Cover of the Spanish edition 

(Adriana Hidalgo Editora, 2020) [a]

We will have to ask ourselves the only serious question that truly matters: where are we now? 

And it is a question we should answer not just with our words, but with our lives too.

 

 

VI. 

 

Another of the great zombie-mantras of the pandemic - again, here in the UK at least - was: Protect the NHS. Indeed, we were expected not only to protect the National Health Service, but love it and elevate it to the status of a religion. 

 

And so Agamben is right to define medicine as the victorious faith of the 21st-century; a cultic practice that posits health (by which it means bare life) above everything else, turning it into a moral obligation: Thou shalt not be sick!

 

But the funny thing is, "the medical religion offers no prospect of salvation [...] the recovery to which it aspires can only be temporary, given that the malignant god - the virus - cannot be annihilated once and for all" [53], mutating into variants as it does. 

 

It is thus the task of philosophers to again enter into conflict with religion: 

 

"I do not know if the stakes will be reignited or if there will be a list of prohibited books, but certainly the thought of those who keep seeking the truth and rejecting the dominant lie will [...] be excluded and accused of disseminating fake news [...] As in all moments of real or simulated emergency, we will again see philosopers be slandered by the ignorant, and scoundrels trying to profit from disasters that they themselves have instigated." [54] 

 

Ecrasez l'infâme! 

 

 

VII. 

 

As readers of Torpedo the Ark will know, I hate Zoom [click here] and I despise the way in which many who should know better - university lecturers, for example - have willingly embraced its use and thus allowed the pandemic to serve as a "pretext for an increasingly pervasive diffusion of digital technologies" [72]. 

 

This has not simply transformed teaching, but effectively negated student life as a form of existence that had evolved over centuries: 

 

"Being a student was, first and foremost, a form of life, one to which studying and listening to lectures were certainly fundamental, but to which encountering and constantly exchanging ideas with other scholarii [...] was no less important." [73] 

 

I agree with that. 

 

And I agree with this: those academics who consent to hold all their classes remotely and comply with the new online order, are the "exact equivalent of those university professors who, in 1931, pledged allegiance to the Fascist regime" [74]. 

 

Those students who really love student life, will oppose the new techno-barbarism and establish their own circles of learning and friendship. 

 

 

VIII. 

 

I also agree with Agamben when he writes that the phrase conspiracy theorist - used to discredit those who refuse to accept the official government narrative repeated by the manistream media - "demonstrates a genuinely surprising historical ignorance" [75]. 

 

Not everything happens randomly or by chance; sometimes events are planned and coordinated by powerful organisations, groups, or individuals. Dismissing anyone who seeks to explain the pandemic by making reference, for example, to the Wuhan Institute, the World Health Organisation, and the pharmaceutical industry, as a conspiracy theorist, is a sign of idiocy. 

 

But where I don't agree with Agamben - even though I hate the thought of mandatory masks - is on the question of the face, which he thinks a uniquely human site of truth: "It is in their faces that humans unwillingly drop their guard; it is the face [...] that they express and reveal themselves." [86] 

 

It is precisely this (metaphysical) privileging of the face that I challenge in a post published way back in 2013: click here. 

 

If I refuse to wear a mask across my mouth and nose, it's because, quite simply, I don't wish to restrict my own breathing - and nor do I want to signal my political conformity (and virtue) via a piece of ridiculous theatre. 

 

But it's not because I have a profound human need to recognise myself and be recognised by others - or a desire to communicate my openness. 

 

 

IX. 

 

In Yōko Ogawa's 1994 sci-fi novel The Memory Police [b], the world is increasingly emptied out as things disappear - including body parts, until, finally, as Byung-Chul Han notes, "there are just disembodied voices aimlessly floating in the air" [c]. 

 

I thought of this as I read the following paragraph in Agamben's book, in a section on the importance of physical contact: 

 

"If, as is perversely being attempted today, all contact could be abolished, if everything and everyone could be held at a distance, we would lose not only the experience of other bodies but also, and above all, any immediate experience of ourselves. We would, purely and simply, lose our own flesh." [101] 

 

But then for those who love to Zoom, that's the ideal is it not; to become ghosts in the machine ...? 

 

X. 

 

Last word to Agamben ...

 

In the Age of Coronavirus, when fear seems to have gripped the hearts of everyone, remember:

 

"No need to lose our heads, no need to let anyone exercise power on the basis of fear or, by transforming an emergency into a permanent state, to rewrite the rules that guarantee our freedom and determine what we can and cannot do." [95]

 

 

Notes

 

[a] I'm using the English edition of Agamben's Where Are We Now?, trans. Valeria Dani, (ERIS, 2021). All page numbers given in the post refer to this edition.

 

[b] Yōko Ogawa, The Memory Police, trans. Stephen Snyder, (Vintage, 2020). 

 

[c] Byung-Chul Han, Preface to Non-things, trans. Daniel Steuer, (Polity Press, 2022), p. viii.

 

 

To go to Part 1 of this post, click here.  

The Covid Nightmare (After D. H. Lawrence)

The Scream of Covid-19 

by Dee Tyndall (after Edvard Munch)

redbubble.com

 

  

I. 

 

He had never known fear. But in England, during the coronavirus pandemic, he experienced an increasing sense of terror; not of catching the disease, but of being bullied by the malevolent spirit which arose amongst the mask-wearing, socially-distanced, lockdown-loving vaccine fanatics. 

 

From 2020 onwards, a form of criminal insanity seemed to possess authorities around the world, including the UK government led by a pathological liar and other bottom-dog members of a Cabinet prepared to terrorise and coerce the general public in the name of health and safety. 

 

The psychological pressure and daily propaganda - spread by a compliant media - was steadily applied in order to break the independent spirit of anyone who wouldn't toe the line and identify with the will of the majority; surrendering their reason and their rights as an individual. 

 

Clap for the NHS and get triple jabbed: this he steadfastly refused to do. His love of freedom (and an essentially contrarian nature) made him abide by his own feelings, come what may. It was not selfishness. Or libertarian sentimentality. It was a question of integrity: would he give in to mass hysteria or not?                

 

To be clear: he belonged to no group or cause and was not an anti-vaxxer. That is to say, he had no moral, political, or medical objection to vaccination. It was the bullying of those who exercised their right to withhold consent and defend bodily autonomy in the face of biopolitical pressure that he disliked and would never acquiesce in. But his feeling was something private and he didn't want to force his views on any other person.  

 

A potentially lethal respiratory virus rapidly spreading around the world is horrible enough. But what made the pandemic so intolerable was that in every country almost everyone lost their heads and any sense of perspective. 

 

The English usually pride themselves on the fact that during a crisis they keep calm and carry on with life as usual: but not this time. This time practically everyone was caught up in the hysteria and swept along, disinclined to think or feel for themselves, frightened to speak up or speak out, and - it has to be admitted - perversely enjoying the experience. 

 

Some people fell ill. Some fell very ill. And some died. But the vast majority, their inner pride gone, just virtue signalled their way through the pandemic by demanding ever tighter restrictions on freedom, boasting of their vaccine status, and finger-wagging at those who showed the least trace of scepticism in the face of what we were being told about the virus. 

 

And now, as we begin to face up to a post-pandemic world and learn to live with Covid, there is a tremendous price to pay because we collectively lost our heads and, worse, lost too our inward, individual integrity. We should not have lost our heads: in a time of crisis, we need to act with greater care and greater courage, but also with a greater sense of calm. And perhaps too, greater kindness.      

 

Of course, superficially, people were kind: not least the nurses and voluntary staff at the vaccination centre where he had queued up in a mask and felt dejected and humiliated when told to stand here, go there, keep his distance, follow the markings on the floor, etc. Why was it nobody else seemed to mind?

 

Having had the jab, he went back home. When the time came for his second shot he would go again, but he would not allow himself to be made a fool of or infantalised; he would not, for example, wear the little badge that they gave him as if he were a six-year-old child which read: I'm a vaccine hero. 'Once,' he said to the Little Greek, 'I'm fully vaccinated, I will never obey another mandate.'

 

 

II.

 

Three weeks later, and he sat in A&E with a blood clot in his lower-right leg; no one wanted to say it was a side-effect of the AstraZeneca Covid vaccine - correlation is not causation - but everyone suspected as much. This led to a six-week period in which he had to inject an anticoagulant into his stomach on a daily basis. The clot eventually dissolved and the bruising faded, but the phlebitis in his leg has flared up several times since. 

 

But inflammed veins don't hurt as much as the pain caused by the unspeakable baseness of the press and public calling for mandatory vaccination and the social exclusion of those who refuse to be jabbed or fail to provide proof of such. No one who has seen what is happening in Europe, or Australia, or been threatened with arrest by the police for sitting on a park bench or refusing to reveal the contents of their shopping trolley, can ever believe again in the benevolence of the State. 

 

In 2020-21, the old world ended. And it wasn't coronavirus to blame, or the Chinese Communist Party; it was our own leaders who shirked their duty (in the name of following the science and perhaps secretly fantasising of a Great Reset). 

 

If only enough individuals had kept their heads and their integrity, the pandemic would never have unfolded in the way it did. If only, in the beginning, there had been enough voices raised in opposition to lockdowns in the UK, then we wouldn't be in the mess we are in today. But the British - particularly the Welsh and the Scots - wobbled and lost their minds and the tide of horror accumulated. 

 

And now things will never be the same again ... (Although the snowdrops will soon be out.) 

 

 

Note: this post is written after (and in the manner of) D. H. Lawrence; see Chapter XII of his novel Kangaroo (1923), entitled 'The Nightmare', which details the unpleasant wartime experiences of the protagonist - Richard Lovatt Somers - who was subject to bullying authority, police harassment, and intimate medical inspection (much as Lawrence was himself). 

      As I have not indicated where I paraphrase, where I quote - or, if you prefer, where I borrow, where I steal - from Lawrence's text, I would encourage readers who are interested to go to the novel directly. The Cambridge Edition, ed. Bruce Steele, established from the original sources and first published in 1994, is the one I relied upon when writing this post; see pp. 212-259. 

      Finally, note that this post is not intended to be either a homage to or parody of Lawrence. And if I say things here which you don't agree with, well, don't allow yourself to be offended, or howl for me to be arrested or thrown out of Essex. I've not done anything to hurt you and there's really no need for personal enmity.       

 

 

Survival in the Age of Coronavirus

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zazzle.com

 

 

I. 

 

I'm pleased to see that the philosopher and cultural critic Byung-Chul Han addresses the coronavirus pandemic within the context of his work on what he terms the palliative society (i.e., society characterised by a generalised fear of pain - or, indeed, any form of negativity that might possibly cause suffering or distress) [a].   

 

Pleased, not only because I think what he says is insightful, but because I think it important that heretics [b] speak up and challenge the prevailing Covid orthodoxy which governments, medical bodies, and the mainstream media are all promoting in order to justify the destruction of individual rights and liberties in the name of public health. 

 

 

II.

 

According to Han, Covid-19 reveals what kind of society we belong to; one in which survival has become an absolute value and where all forces are marshalled "for the prolongation of life" [14] at any cost. 

 

He writes:

 

"In the pandemic, the bitter fight for survival is subjected to a viral intensification. The virus enters the palliative zone of well-being and turns it into a quarantine zone in which life is completely paralysed into survival. The more life becomes survival, the greater the fear of death. Algophobia is utimately thantophobia. The pandemic makes death, which we had carefully repressed and set aside, visible again. The prominence of death in the mass media makes people nervous." [14]

 

That's true: there are people who terrify themselves reading the latest daily updates on infection levels, hospitalisations, and deaths; not just in their local area, but nationally and even globally. They seem to have lost all sense of perspective or context and treat even a tiny rise in the number of people dying with (and not necessarily of) coronavirus as if it were the end of the world, rather than the end of a few individual lives (mostly aged over 80 and very often with serious pre-existing health conditions).  

Han writes:

 

"The society of survival has no sense of the good life. Even enjoyment is sacrificed in the pursuit of health as an end in itself. [...] We are prepared to sacrifice everything that makes life worth living for the sake of survival. In the face of the pandemic, even the restriction of fundamental rights has been accepted without so much as a question being asked. We comply willingly with the state of exception that reduces life to bare life." [14-15]     

 

Bare life: i.e., a socially distanced existence in which we lock ourselves up at home or creep about in masks, regard strangers (and even our own relatives) as potential vectors of disease, and constantly self-test for signs of infection. It is a life divested not only of pleasure, but of all meaning (i.e., lacking in any meta-physical dimension). 

 

We become, in effect, zombies: "A society that is gripped by the mania for survival is a society of the undead [...] too alive to die, and too dead to live" [17].   

 

 

Notes

 

[a] See Byung-Chul Han, The Palliative Society, trans. Daniel Steuer, (Polity Press, 2021). All page numbers given in the post refer to this work.  

      Byung-Chul Han, of course, is not the first author to inveigh against this will to survive. Nietzsche was keen to stress that the will to power was more than merely a will to life and could, in fact, have aims contrary to the wellbeing and survival of the organism. D. H. Lawrence also wrote at length against the unappeased rage of self-preservation; see, for example, his 'Study of Thomas Hardy', in Study of Thomas Hardy and Other Essays, ed. Bruce Steele, (Cambridge University Press, 1985), pp. 3-128.  

[b] For a recent post on heresy (as/and philosophical idiotism), click here. Like Han, I conceive of the heretic as a figure of resistance opposing the violence of consensus and the commonly accepted values of their era. 

On Becoming a Vaccine Hero

 

 

One of the big differences between the old school fascism of law and order and our new age fascism of health and safety is that whereas the former terrorised its population into compliance and conformity, the latter unfolds via the insidious infantalisation of its people who become ever-more dependent upon the nanny state (that kindest of all kind monsters).

 

The iron fist has morphed into a helping hand and the boot in the face has become a pat on the head ...

 

Thus, for example, if and when you go to have your coronavirus vaccination - as I did this morning - you'll be subjected to the usual humilations that we've become all-too-accustomed to over the past twelve months. 

 

But, adding insult to injury, just when you think the process has finished and you're free to go, a woman standing by the exit steps forward to place a little sticker on your person featuring a heart and a crown design signifying you've been a brave little boy or girl and that you're a model citizen (or a vaccine hero as I heard someone else say).

 

What is one to do? 

 

Perhaps when I return in a few weeks time for my second jab, I'll wear my Foucault t-shirt and hand out leaflets reading: 

 

Biopower: diverse techniques allowing for the subjugation of individual bodies and the coordination of entire populations by the modern state under the guise of defeating Covid-19; often justified in the UK with the slogan Save Lives and Protect the NHS.    

Build Back Better

Zen fascists will control you ...

  

I. 

 

In an episode of The Inbetweeners, an increasingly frustrated Will ends up describing French exchange student Patrice as a 'fucking baguette eating dickhead frog'. When Simon points out the racist nature of the remark, Will replies: 'He's made me racist' [1], which is not merely an amusing but also a thought-provoking idea. 

 

Similarly, one can't help observing that the seemingly irrational actions of governments here and elsewhere in response to Covid-19 - such as massively curtailing freedom and deliberately wrecking the economy - have significantly contributed to public paranoia; that they have, if you like, made conspiracists of us all.       

Thus it is that previously reasonable individuals who once would have laughed at ideas of the Great Reset and the New World Order, are now beginning to wonder if there isn't some truth in them as they (desperately) try to make sense of what's going on. 

 

They want to know why it is, for example, that politicians the world over - across the political spectrum and including Boris Johnson and Joe Biden - have adopted the mantra Build Back Better and promise us a fairer, greener future with electric cars, social justice, and a universal basic income, whilst insisting we all wear masks and live online.   

II.

This holistic - or, if you prefer, totalitarian - concept of Building Back Better was first discussed at the UN in relation to the issue of disaster management and adopted by the General Assembly as an official programme in 2015. The main principle is to regard crises - including pandemics - as opportunities to create more resilient social structures and economic models than before.     

Prior to this, the phrase had been floating around for several years, used not only by politicians, economists, and members of think tanks, but by the sort of people involved in aid agencies and various NGOs who dream of a safer tomorrow for all the world's children - oh, and a global government run by a technocratic liberal elite who know what's best for everyone at all times.   

Today, key personnel at the IMF, WHO, WEF, and EU, seem to have miraculously arrived at some kind of ideological consensus re the need to Build Back Better. 

 

Of course, it's hardly a conspiracy - more like an open secret - when individuals like Klaus Schwab are unashamedly setting out their visions of a post-Covid utopia and declaring: "The pandemic represents a rare but narrow window of opportunity to reflect, reimagine and reset our world." [2] 

 

They call this the new normal. And they laugh at those who naively believe we'll soon return to the old ways once there's a vaccine ...

 

Notes

[1] See: The Inbetweeners, S2/E3, 'Will's Birthday', dir. Ben Palmer, written by Damon Beesley and Ian Morris, (original air date 16 April 2009).  

[2] Klaus Schwab (Founder and Executive Chairman, World Economic Forum), 'Now is the time for a "great reset"',  article on the WEF website (3 June 2020): click here.  

Reflections on TB in the Age of Coronavirus

Chest x-ray of a patient with tuberculosis 

showing a lesion in the upper-right lung 

Zephyr / Science Photo Library

 

 

One of the positive aspects of the Covid-19 pandemic is that it has obliged people to consider all things virological, including how tiny parasitic agents evolve and cross from one species to another, infecting and exploiting host cells, etc.

 

One of the negative aspects - and this, ironically, as a consequence of knowing too much thanks to a 24-hour news media that is obsessed with the coronavirus - is that almost the entire world seems to have gone mad and is gripped by fear. 

 

In the past, when people knew much less about viruses and disease in general, they may have been concerned about catching something nasty and falling mortally ill, but there was no mass hysteria and the population didn't isolate themselves indoors, or walk around outside wearing masks and obsessively squirting hand gel.  

 

In 1920, for example, when the average life expectancy for a man in the UK was under fifty and for a woman fifty-four - and when we were only just emerging from the post-War flu pandemic that affected a quarter of the population, killing 228,000 British citizens - infectious diseases were the leading cause of death in young and middle-aged people. 

 

Polio, diptheria, measles, and mumps may now have been largely eradicated in the UK thanks to programmes of immunisation, but they were very serious illnesses a century ago. As was tuberculosis; a bacterial disease that was "by far the biggest and most consistent killer in Western Europe throughout the nineteenth and the first half of the twentieth centuries" [1]. 

 

 

II. 

 

According to David Ellis, in the year that D. H. Lawrence died, 1930, there were 50,000 registered deaths from TB in Great Britain; a figure higher than the present number of deaths associated with Covid-19, but also a figure that showed a significant decline from earlier years thanks to improved living conditions and better palliative care.   

Like the coranvirus, TB "is chiefly spread by droplets of sputum when the infected person coughs in the presence of others, with repeated close contact an important factor" [2]. But citizens in 1930 weren't ordered by their government to socially distance and obey the rule of six. Apparently, they accepted that disease and dying were a normal part of life and, whilst naturally wishing to remain healthy and avoid infection, they understood that risk can never be eliminated entirely.

 

Oh, and before anybody mistakenly says that consumption is old news in the Age of Coronavirus, it's worth remembering that one quarter of the world's population is thought to have a latent infection with TB and that in 2018 there were more than 10 million active cases, resulting in 1.5 million fatalities. 

 

TB thus remains the deadliest of all infectious diseases afflicting mankind and if we in the West don't seem to care about this, it's probably because the majority of the cases are in Asia and Africa (I think we all know that if Covid-19 had politely respected borders and stayed in China it would have received very little media attention).   

 

 

Notes

[1] David Ellis, Death and the Author, (Oxford University Press, 2008), p. 10.

 

[2] Ibid., p. 14.  

News in the Age of Coronavirus

 

 

My mother - though not so much my father, who was really only interested in sports - loved to watch news and discussion programmes and I grew up in the company of political journalists and broadcasters such as Brian Walden and Robin Day.

 

And even until just a few years ago, I would regularly watch the Channel 4 News or Newsnight. But then something changed. I'm not sure exactly what, or when, but something definitely changed and I began to increasingly sigh and roll my eyes when watching. Now I just don't bother, I simply switch over or switch off - the ultimate act of disconnect and something which, as a lover of TV, I am loath to do.

 

Something similar has also happened between myself and the world of printed news. There was a time, for example, when I would actually buy (and read) The Guardian. But that's no longer possible, despite the fact that they still, even now, employ some excellent columnists, such as Marina Hyde.  

       

The sad fact is that almost all of the entire mainstream media has become viscerally objectionable in the last decade. Not least in their coverage of the coronavirus pandemic which has been a constant stream of government propaganda and scare-mongering. If and when this (so-called) Covid crisis is over, it won't just be our politicians who will be obliged to hang their heads in shame and resign, but every journalist and news reporter who has been an active participant in the incitement system. 

 

What Peter Sloterdijk once said in an interview about the global media's complicity with terror, can now be paraphrased about their collusion with governments vis-à-vis the Covid-19 conspiracy (i.e., the attempt to manipulate and exploit a disease and people's fear of falling ill and dying): 

As soon as there is news about coronavirus - the rate of infection has increased, for example - journalists have to be clearly aware of their responsibility. Should they simply pass on the information, should they enhance it in some manner, or should they decide to play down the story and effectively put it in quarantine (an excellent method formerly used to avoid mass panic). Perhaps the viral nature of our contemporary media is more dangerous than Covid-19 itself, because it can create chaos in the social, political, and economic systems of a society and rapidly spread hysteria in entire populations. Unfortunately, the complicity between global media and this pandemic has now become so well hamonised over the last eight months or so that we have to speak of genuine collusion and effective co-dependency. At some point we have to say openly: you, the journalists, are the dealers in this game.*

 

 

* See: Peter Sloterdijk, 'Thus Spoke Sloterdijk', interview with Res Strehle in Selected Exaggerations, ed. Bernhard Klein, trans. Karen Marglois, (Polity Press, 2016), pp. 192-201. The paragraph I'm part-quoting, part-paraphrasing is on pp. 196-97 and begins "A thought experiment could be useful here."

 

For a related post to this one, click here.           

Fashion in the Age of Coronavirus

Paul Fürst's famous engraving of a 
plague doctor (c. 1721)

People think that heroic medical and military personnel in their sexy-scary, handmade hazmat suits and face masks are terribly futuristic. But that's probably because most of us have only ever seen them worn in science fictition movies.

Actually, they are simply updating a look that belongs to 17th-century European fashion and mankind's attempt to tailor a fully disease-resistant outfit. The now iconic (and carnivalesque) Venetian beak-doctor's costume was designed by the French royal physician Charles de Lorme (c.1619) to protect against the bubonic plague (i.e., the coronavirus of its day).

It featured a long leather or waxed fabric overcoat and a startling beak-shaped mask that contained a potpourri of aromatic ingredients, ranging from mint and lavender to garlic and cloves, designed to protect the wearer from imaginary gases (miasma) and bad smells that were believed to cause disease (this was before modern science developed germ theory). The outfit was finished with a wide-brimmed hat, boots and gloves, all made from goatskin, and a pair of glass goggles (incorporated into the mask).   

Strangely, even those without any fetishistic interest seem to possess a profound (cultural) fascination for men and women in protective clothing.

Where once we kissed the splendid robes of priests and believed only they could save us, now we place our faith in those wearing hi-tech hazmat suits and trust that they will restore health and safety to a diseased and dangerously chaotic world (and the fact that they do so without resorting to frogs and leeches and poking us with a long wooden stick, is something we should be grateful for).       

Turn and Face the Strange (On Coronavirus and the State of Funk)

It's interesting (to me at least) how extraordinarily relevant some of D. H. Lawrence's essays and articles still seem, even though he was writing for a very different readership, in a very different time.

Take, for example, 'The State of Funk', written in 1929. What Lawrence says here about the fear of change on the one hand and the need for courage on the other is surely worth (re-)considering in this Age of Coronavirus; a period characterised by governmental overreaction and media hysteria in the face of a global health crisis and ensuing socio-economic upheaval:

"There is, of course, a certain excuse for fear. The time of change is upon us. The need for change has taken hold of us. We are changing, we have got to change, and we can no more help it than leaves can help going yellow and coming loose in autumn, or than bulbs can help shoving their little green spikes out of the ground in spring. We are changing, we are in the throes of change, and the change will be a great one. Instinctively we feel it. Intuitively, we know it. And we are frightened. Because change hurts. And also, in the periods of serious transition, everything is uncertain, and living things are most vulnerable." [219]

This, I think, was true and important to say then and is true and important to say now: for it seems increasingly certain that the present pandemic will trigger not just a temporary suspension of civil liberties and a Great Confinement, but radical, long-lasting change; not just political and institutional change, but cultural and individual change in terms of everyday behaviour and values.

And the prospect of that understandably causes a certain anxiety amongst a good number of people: But what of it?, asks Lawrence. We might feel uncomfortable and there may be wretched times ahead, but that's no reason for panic or cowardice: "Granted all the pains and dangers and uncertainties, there is no excuse for falling into a state of funk." [219] What is needed, rather, in a time of great change is:

"Patience, alertness, intelligence, and a human goodwill and fearlessness [...] Courage is the great word. Funk spells sheer disaster." [220]

If we are quick-witted and undaunted, then there's the hope that things will be much better than they are presently; "more generous, more spontaneous, more vital, less basely materialistic" [220]. But, on the other hand, if we "fall into a state of funk, impotence and persecution, then things may be very much worse than they are now" [220].  

It's up to us: and we mustn't just leave it to the authorities; to politicians and policemen and those who look to shape public opinion via the media.

Lawrence concludes:

"Change in the whole social system is inevitable not merely because conditions change - though partly for that reason - but because people themselves change [particularly following a serious illness]. We change. You and I, we change and change vitally, as the years go on. New feelings arise in us, old values depreciate, new values arise. Things we thought we wanted most intensely we realise we don't care about. The things we built our lives on crumble and disappear, and the process is painful. But it is not tragic. A tadpole that has so gaily waved its tail in the water must feel very sick when the tail begins to drop off and little legs begin to sprout. The tail was its dearest, gayest, most active member, all its little life was in its tail. And now the tail must go. It seems rough on the tadpole: but the little green frog in the grass is a new gem, after all." [221]

So, as Bowie would say: Turn and face the strange ... and dare to become that little green frog!

See: D. H. Lawrence, 'The State of Funk', Late Essays and Articles, ed. James T. Boulton, (Cambridge University Press, 2004), pp. 219-224. 

Play: David Bowie, 'Changes', single release from the album Hunky Dory (RCA, 1971): click here for the 2015 remastered version.

Soon It Will Be Easter

F. N. Souza: The Deposition (1963)

Oil on canvas (138 x 170.5 cm)

Soon, it will be Easter ...

And this year, Christ's period in the tomb - post-crucifixion / pre-resurrection - will have a terrible significance and reality for us all, in this, the Age of Coronavirus and the Great Confinement, as we lie suspended between life and death, frightened even to cough or touch our faces.  

Of course, sooner or later, we will have to wake from our viral slumber and leave our domestic isolation. Even if our bodies are numb and full of hurt, we will have to move; assuming we're still alive and haven't perished behind the stack of quilted toilet rolls where we sought safety and reassurance, but which became at last a 3-ply prison.   

But it won't be easy moving back into life and returning from the land of the dead - particularly as the idiots in government have crashed the global economy. It might be spring and the natural world may be "thronging with greenness" [1], but things are, I suspect, going to be difficult for a lot of people for a long time to come.  

And, of course, we won't really be moving back into the same world, or the same life; but a different world, a different life (even if it has the appearance of the same). Sickness changes us and changes everything.

Indeed, what D. H. Lawrence once wrote of the flu is perhaps something we might say of coronavirus, namely, that it's a transformative disease: "It changes the very chemical composition of the blood." Hence, the fact that even when one does finally recover, "one has lost for good one's old self ..." [2].

Notes

[1] D. H. Lawrence, The Escaped Cock, in The Virgin and the Gipsy and Other Stories, ed. Michael Herbert, Bethan Jones and Lindeth Vasey, (Cambridge University Press, 2005), p. 126.

[2] D. H. Lawrence, The Letters of D. H. Lawrence, Vol. VI, ed. James T. Boulton and Margaret H. Boulton with Gerald M. Lacy, (Cambridge University Press, 1991), letter 3995, to Mabel Dodge Luhan, [14-15 April, 1927], pp. 36-38. 

It's Failure to Live That Makes Us Sick (D. H. Lawrence in the Age of Coronavirus)

Alan Bates as Birkin and Jennie Linden as Ursula

Women in Love (dir. Ken Russell, 1969)

In Chapter XI of Women in Love, there's a brief but interesting discussion between Ursula Brangwen and Rupert Birkin on the subject of illness which I thought might be interesting to examine as we all sit cooped up at home trying not to touch our faces and hoping not to manifest symptoms of coronavirus (the disease that is not only pandemic but also emblematic of this new socio-cultural era of confinement and isolation in which we suddenly find ourselves).  

"Ursula looked at him closely. He was very thin and hollow, with a ghastly look in his face.

      'You have been ill, haven't you?' she asked, rather repulsed. 

      'Yes,' he replied coldly. 

      'Has it made you frightened?' she asked.

      'What of?' he asked, turning his eyes to look at her. Something in him, inhuman and unmitigated, disturbed her, and shook her out of her ordinary self.

      'It is frightening to be very ill, isn't it? she said.

      'It isn't pleasant,' he said. 'Whether one is really afraid of death, or not, I have never decided. In one mood, not a bit, in another, very much.'

      'But doesn't it make you feel ashamed? I think it makes one so ashamed, to be ill - illness is so terribly humiliating, don't you think?'

      He considered for some minutes. 

      'Maybe,' he said. 'Though one knows all the time one's life isn't really right, at the source. That's the humiliation. I don't see that the illness counts so much, after that. One is ill because one doesn't live properly - can't. It's the failure to live that makes one ill, and humiliates one.'" [124-25]

The precise nature of Birkin's illness isn't, I believe, made clear in the novel. But the fact is he's often sick and laid up in bed, for his sins (and his sensitivity) - a bit like Lawrence himself, who had pneumonia at least twice and was dogged by both pulmonary tuberculosis and chronic bronchitis during his last years.

His description - very thin and hollow, with a ghastly look in his face - makes one think of the man who died after having left the tomb, filled with the sickness of unspeakable disillusion and with a deathly pallor. No wonder Ursula finds Birkin - or, rather, the ravages of disease upon him - repulsive.

For whilst decadents may see beauty in physical decay and find signs of mortal corruption terribly romantic, Ursula is Nietzschean enough to appreciate that the weak and diseased present a terrible danger to the strong and healthy; not because they might pass on their medical condition, but because they invariably make miserable and undermine the natural gaiety that's in life. Repulsion is thus a noble defensive reaction; a vital somatic response to the threat of contamination.     

Having said that, Nietzsche also acknowledged that whilst strength preserves, it is only sickness which ultimately advances man. And so Birkin "liked sometimes to be ill enough to take to his bed", for then, during a period of convalescence, "he got better very quickly, and things came to him clear and sure" [201].    

Arguably, it's this convalescent conviction sparkling in his eyes that Ursula finds disturbing. Ordinarily, human beings always have a little fear and uncertainty in their eyes and Ursula seeks reassurance that Birkin, does, in fact, still know what it is to be frightened; of illness and of the possibility of dying.

However, whilst Birkin concedes that being critically ill and brought to death's door isn't very pleasant, he remains ambivalent about whether he is really afraid of death or not; sometimes no, sometimes yes. As for Lawrence, he was much clearer on this point: one must ultimately lose the fear and learn to affirm death in the same manner (and for the same reason) that one affirms life; for without the song of death, the song of life becomes pointless and absurd.  

Finally, we come to the question of illness and humiliation ...

Ursula finds sickness terribly humiliating and even the thought of being ill shameful. Birkin doesn't deny this, but seems to regard it as missing the real issue. For Birkin, it's not being ill that prevents us from living, but being unable to live - which for Lawrence means blossoming into full being like a flower - that makes us ill. It's this ontological failure - exacerbated by the conditions of modern existence - that, for Birkin, brings shame upon us.*

I don't know if that's true, but it's certainly something worth thinking about in the present time ...

Notes

D. H. Lawrence, Women in Love, ed. David Farmer, Lindeth Vasey and John Worthen (Cambridge University Press, 1987). Note that I have slightly edited the discussion between Ursula and Birkin, removing a couple of lines.

* Lawrence reaffirms this idea in a poem found in his Nettles Notebook called 'Healing', which opens with the following lines:

I am not a mechanism, an assembly of various sections.
And it is not because the mechanism is working wrongly, that I am ill.
I am ill because of wounds to the soul, to the deep emotional self ..."

See The Poems, Vol. I, ed. Christopher Pollnitz, (Cambridge University Press, 2013), p. 534.

Readers who liked this post might also find the following essay by Judith Ruderman of interest: 'D. H. Lawrence's Dis-Ease: Examining the Symptoms of "Illness as Metaphor''', D. H. Lawrence Review, Vol. 36, No. 2, (Autumn, 2011). 

On Keeping Calm and Carrying On in the Age of Coronavirus

The British have long prided themselves on their sense of humour and their stoicism; their carefree ability to keep calm, carry on and always look on the bright side, whatever the circumstances. Thus, there's something profoundly antithetical to the national spirit about panic buying, self-isolation, and lockdown - the key symptoms (apart from a fever and dry cough) of the media-driven, government-authorised coronavirus pandemic. 

What could be more humiliating than to hide away behind a mound of toilet rolls, checking for the latest updates on how many are infected and how many have died? I think I prefer those Brits in Benidorm defying Spanish police attempts to impose a curfew with chants of we've all got the virus / na, na, na, na.

What on earth are political leaders thinking, as they trigger massive cultural and socioeconomic disruption because of a disease that will make most people only mildly or moderately ill? I mean, it's not the zombie apocalypse or World War III, and one rather admires Peter Hitchens for daring to ask whether shutting down the UK - with unprecedented curbs on civil liberties - is really the most sensible response to the cornovirus crisis?

As Hitchens knows, anyone who doesn't conform to the official line on this question is immediately accused of being irresponsible and threatening public health, undermining the NHS, etc. So it takes a certain courage to even pose the possibility that we might have got things wrong and retreated from reason into mass hysteria, compromising our freedom as we do so (restrictions on movement, travel and public gathering, are already in place). He writes:

"How long before we need passes to go out in the streets, as in any other banana republic? [...] All the crudest weapons of despotism, the curfew, the presumption of guilt and the power of arbitrary arrest, are taking shape in the midst of what used to be a free country. And we, who like to boast of how calm we are in a crisis, seem to despise our ancient hard-bought freedom and actually want to rush into the warm, firm arms of Big Brother. Imagine, police officers forcing you to be screened for a disease, and locking you up for 48 hours if you object. Is this China or Britain? Think how this power could be used against, literally, anybody."

Is the Great Confinement justified? Perhaps. To be honest, I don't know - and neither, of course, does Hitchens. But nor am I confident that anyone else knows for certain; not even the medical experts that the government claims to be relying upon for its information and decision making.

And if coronavirus turns out to be far less deadly than we are being led to believe, then the global decision to shut up shop will be something that future generations will look back on with amused astonishment.

See: Peter Hitchens, 'Is shutting down Britain - with unprecedented curbs on ancient liberties - really the best answer?', Mail on Sunday (22 March, 2020): click here to read online.

Mama Weer All Carers Now (Something to Reflect Upon Whilst in Self-Isolation)

On a rather schadenfreudenistic note, it has amused me to see how the coronavirus pandemic has obliged millions of people to essentially adopt the life that I've been living for almost four years; one of illness, isolation, constant handwashing, financial hardship and grave concerns about the future.

Experts are already expressing fears about the mental wellbeing of people in a lockdown situation denied normal social interaction and deprived of certain material comforts that they have previously taken for granted. And I can vouch for the fact it isn't easy ...

However, if spending 14 days shut-up indoors worrying about whether you'll run out of quilted toilet paper is your idea of hardship, then try spending 1,448 days caring for an elderly parent with Alzheimer's without any external support and just £66.15 a week to live on ...         

I'm just saying that people should learn to make do - or do without - with a certain equanimity (or, if you prefer a more philosophical term, then go google ataraxia - a crucial component of the good life for Stoics and Epicureans alike).*  


* Note: those interested in this can also click here to read a post on the topic from April 2018. 

Of Priests and Pornographers in the Age of Coronavirus

It's interesting to note how, even in the middle of a global health crisis, we can rely on the superstitious and stubborn stupidity of priests to reassert itself, as well as the cynicism of pornographers attempting to peddle their wares by encouraging those in self-isolation to engage in auto-erotic activity. 

Thus, in Greece, despite the authorities issuing precautionary guidelines and suspending festive events and large public gatherings (as well as closing schools, museums, bars, restaurants, etc.), the Church announced that Holy Communion - in which the faithful share a spoon to eat pieces of bread soaked in wine from a chalice - will continue because the blood and body of Christ is without blemish and so cannot cause illness - in fact, if anything, it possesses the miraculous power to heal.

Amusingly, the Greek Prime Minister, Kyriakos Mitsotakis, went on national TV to plead that religious duties be adjusted to reality, but, of course, when have true believers ever been concerned with the latter?  

In Italy, meanwhile, where millions of citizens are in almost total lockdown as the government there does what it can to halt the spread of coronavirus, Pornhub - one of the world's largest and most popular porn sites - is offering free access to premium content (usually available only to subscribers) until April 3rd.

In a tweet, Pornhub declared they felt duty bound to do what they could to help keep spirits up during such difficult times. Such generosity has won the company many new fans - which, of course, was the point. 

And so, it appears that whilst most shoppers are stocking up on toilet rolls, hand soap, and packets of pasta, some are buying sex toys and lube and looking to make the most of prolonged periods stuck at home, with or without a partner.     

A Town Called Prato (Notes on Sino-Italian Relations in the Age of Coronavirus)

I. 

The Italian city of Prato has a long and noble history that commenced with the ancient Etruscans and is home to many museums and cultural monuments. Lying north-west of Florence, it is Tuscany's second-largest city and an important industrial centre, particularly associated with the textile sector and the production of luxury leather goods that are sold all over the world and stamped with the names of the great Italian fashion houses.

Many factories and workshops, however, are no longer owned by local people. They are owned, rather, by wealthy Chinese investors (and often operated by criminal gangs). And they mostly employ tens of thousands of Chinese workers from Wuhan and Wenzhou - some of whom are working legally, many of whom are not.

New direct flight routes were established between China and Italy. Those who couldn't get official work visas paid people smugglers huge fees, which they then had to work off; a form of modern slavery enforced with the threat of violence. Those not making designer goods for the rich produced fast affordable fashion for the poor, eagerly sold via the high street retailers.   

There have been a number of police raids on these premises, but mostly the authorities turn a blind eye to what's been going on since the 1990s and the EU have also remained silent on the flouting of their own labour laws. For as one local official pointed out, the economic performance of his region is significantly better than in the rest of the country thanks to Chinese capital and cheap Chinese labour, so it would be crazy to intervene.

Of course, many Italians resent the Chinese immigrants, accusing them of undermining working conditions and lowering wages* - but what can they do? This is the brave new world of globalisation that the liberal elite promised would lead to opportunities for all. Don't mention organised crime and corruption, or rising tensions between the two communities, just enjoy the cultural diversity and order some kung pao chicken to takeaway.        

II.

On 31 December 2019, the Health Commission of Wuhan, Hubei, China, informed the World Health Organisation about a cluster of acute pneumonia cases with unknown origin in its province. On 9 January 2020, the Chinese Center for Disease Control and Prevention reported the identification of a novel coronavirus as the cause.

The first cases of coronavirus in Italy were confirmed on 31 January 2020, when two Chinese tourists in Rome tested positive for the disease. Six weeks later, and Italy has the world's highest per capita rate of coronavirus cases and is the country with the second-highest number of positive cases (as well as deaths) in the world, after mainland China.

On 8 March 2020, Prime Minister Giuseppe Conte announced that all of Lombardy and 14 other northern provinces were being quarantined; the following day, this lockdown was extended to the entire country and nearly all commercial and social activity has since ground to a halt.

At the time of writing (12 March), Italy has had over 15,000 confirmed cases and over 1000 deaths. On a brighter note, there have also been 1,258 recorded recoveries. 

Ironically, the Chinese authorities have offered medical assistance and supplies and, according to a Beijing news agency, China and Italy have reaffirmed their close bilateral ties in a phone call between respective foreign ministers; Luigi Di Maio apparently congratulating his Chinese counterpart for the robust action taken by China in preventing the spread of the disease and saying that Italy can learn much from China's successful experience in combatting the virus. 

Notes

* It's vital to note that just as Chinese migrants aren't responsible for the negative consequences of globalisation, nor are they to blame for the spread of coronavirus in Italy. In fact, in Prato, where there are at least 45,000 Chinese citizens (including those there illegally), there are so far no recorded cases of the disease. Something that those who would seek to politicise this health crisis in often racist terms might like to consider.

See: D. T. Max, 'The Chinese Workers Who Assemble Designer Bags in Tuscany', The New Yorker, (16 April 2018): click here. Note: this essay originally appeared in the print edition under the headline 'Made in Italy'.